Choose us (Wilmon FF)

24

(Two weeks until the next gala)
Wilhelm

August: Forget the payment, I don't need it anymore.

On the one hand, he was glad that he didn't have to give August more money and therefore didn't have to do it behind his mother's back. On the other hand, he was confused. August seemed rather desperate when he asked for the money. And out of nowhere he didn't want any more of it? Wilhelm put his cell phone on the table in front of him and Felice. It was somehow easier to talk about ... him with Boris than with Felice. He knew that Boris would except him. They had an appointment earlier that week, to try on the suit for the next gala just in case. Wilhelm thought it was unnecessary.

„Boris?" he had asked, shaking more than he intended to. Boris just looked up at him and smiled. „Yes?"
„How did you met your Husband?" he asked. Boris raised an eyebrow. „When I was a year abroad, Paris to be exact, I found an adorable little café that served some of the best coffee in Paris. My French wasn't really the best if I am honest with you and myself. A young man, smiling brighter than the sun sat down next to me and helped me to comunicate with the waitress." Wilhelm thought that no matter how bright the man would've smiled, Simons smile was brighter. It reminded him of a supernova. Big, bright, wonderful and extraordinary. But he didn't say it. Not yet at least. As Boris packed his stuff and Wilhelm settled down on his bed again, he carried on:

„We talked. A lot at that. He was funny. He was nice and his French accent was not to be ignored. But he spoke perfect and fluent swedish. He told me his mother was Swedish as of his father was French. His mother lived in Sweden since a few years prior and his father had sadly passed early on in his teenager years. We kept talking abot god knows what. But he, his name was and is Oliver, made everythign I said look like it was the most important thign I ever uttered out of my mouth. And that was when I knew I had to meet him again. And so I did. Rest is history." Boris closed sewing kit and turned to Wilhelm.

„Now why, Wilhelm, did you want to know that?" Boris looked at him already knowing. So Wilhelm just smiled and said: „I think you already know, don't you?" With a silent nod, Boris had left the room.
It was easy cause he knew what he was expecting. But Felice? His best friend since he was a little boy? It was indescribably difficult. What if she laughed at him and called it a fantasy? Or it was just a phase? Wilhelm took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside.

"Wille?" Felice asked cautiously, as if she could sense that something was wrong. Maybe she did, Wilhelm thought. He looked up and looked into her eyes. There was no mistaking the worry in them. She knew something was wrong. Here goes nothing.

"I've met someone," he said a little faster than he intended, just to get it off his chest. Felice's face lit up without hesitation. "WILHELM!" she practically screamed and threw her arms around his neck. Wilhelm yelped as he fell back onto the couch. She was happy for him. Inwardly, he hoped it would stay that way. Felice pulled back in disbelief. "So, who are they?"
Wilhelm tilted his head in confusion.

"They?"
Felice just shrugged her shoulders and looked at him, still smiling. "Well, girl, boy, who cares? As long as you're happy, so am I. Unless he, she, it's a total asshole." Felice raised an eyebrow to indirectly ask if it was an asshole. Wilhelm paused for a moment, emotions coursing through his body without control. His thoughts raced and always came back to the same thing: She accepts me. A silent tear of pure relief ran down his cheek as he shook his head. "No," he whispered, "He's not. He's more than I deserve."

"First of all, Wille, you deserve all the happiness in the world. You're the most loyal and greatest and best and whatnot person I know. If there's one person who deserves more than the crown and love, it's you. And don't you ever doubt that in my or... his presence." Felice reprimanded him and he just kept smiling at her. "So a he?" Felice said, wiggling her eyebrows. Wilhelm groaned and stood up. "I shouldn't have said anything." But he laughed with relief. Less weight on his shoulders felt so fucking good. "Wilhelm, sit down. Tell. Me. Everything."

Wihelm laughed and sat down. "You know the soloist, don't you? Simon?" Wilhelm asked and Felice's jaw dropped to the floor. "NO." she said and grabbed Wilhelm by the shoulders and shook him. "Don't tell me you fucked the damn soloist." Wilhelm smiled and blushed slightly at the mention. "What if I did?" Felice cried out, so suddenly that Wilhelm flinched completely. "How was it? What was it like? How was it?" Felice kept repeating over and over again. Wilhelm smiled as he saw the images of Simon above him, head thrown back of pleasure and mouth wide open from the sounds that Wilhelm could hear for ages without ever wanting to stop.

"It was..." Wilhelm began, searching for a word that described it best, "incredible." He dropped back onto the couch while Felice started jumping around the living room like a rabbit. Wilhelm laughed and cupped his hands over his face to hide his ever-widening blush. "I said everything, Wille. So tell me everything."
"Okay." said Wilhelm, "I couldn't sleep again and although it didn't start there. I had seen him at the first choir rehearsal because I was curious and..." he told her everything. From the first moment when he thought Simon was probably the most handsome person he had ever seen, to their first kiss and their argument just a few days before.

"And since the first tea I've been living with a constant sexual crisis." Wilhelm said after a long monologue and exhaled firmly. "Why?" asked Felice. "Well, I think I liked girls before, and now I like Simon. Am I gay? Bi? Pansexual? I don't fucking know." And once again he admonished dramatically. Felice just shrugged her shoulders. "And unlabled? Queer? You don't have to know what you are right away. You are Wilhelm. Just Wilhelm. And some people won't like that you are the way you are. But you are you. Gay, bi, or just queer, nobody cares. As long as you feel comfortable in your own skin, no other idiot has the right to talk you into something else. And if they do, put your middle finger in the air and turn your back."
She was right and deep down Wilhelm knew that. But a little voice in his head told him that he needed to know. For Simon. And before he could think about it too long, Felice pulled him out of the loop.

"Does your mother know?" Felice asked, her voice slowly becoming worried. Not so obviously. Other people wouldn't know. But Wilhelm and Felice had known each other too long for him not to notice. He had to avoid her eyes from now on. "No, not really."
"Wille." Felice said a little agonized and Wilhelm knew the tone.
"I know, but what should I do? She'd flip completely if I told her that. Just because of the galas."

The galas. Wilhelm's heart suddenly became three times as heavy and he was suddenly very aware of the ringing in his ears. When the galas are over... Simon will be gone. He... Wilhelm didn't want to think about it, but it suddenly hurt. The person he liked so much suddenly had an expiration date and he was suddenly too aware of it. And he couldn't do anything about it but to watch. It made him want to vomit.